


No Hands

by therecognitionscene



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therecognitionscene/pseuds/therecognitionscene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim wants a show. And when the boss wants something, the boss gets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off of this video:
> 
> http://that-sarah-is-such-a-cumberbitch.tumblr.com/post/30912155350
> 
> Verrrrrrrrrry much NSFW, so watch and read at your own discretion! Hope you enjoy it!

“Strip.”

The one word command came from the darkness of their room, the voice low and sultry and brooking no argument. Goddamnit, he hadn't even fully stepped into their fucking bedroom. 

Sebastian Moran let his bag fall off his shoulder to the floor with a bit of a sigh. He was cold. Tired. Achy. Sitting out on a rooftop for 13 fucking hours simply observing a target was not the sniper's idea of a good time, but Jim had given the order, and he had followed it. 

All day he had been thinking about getting back to the flat: about a nice hot shower, some comfy clothes, a steaming cuppa, kissing Jim goodnight, passing out on their oversized bed, and Bob's your uncle. And now he was back home and looking forward to his quiet night of restoration, and all his hopes had been destroyed with that one word. The deviant little criminal, it seemed, had plans.

“Jim, 'm exhausted. Could we-- not do this tonight?” He had lost the battle before he had even known he was in one, but Sebastian still protested, even as he knelt down to unlace his boots.

Jim switched on their bedside table lamp, the soft glow filling the room.

“Mmmm, no. Daddy wants a show tonight, Tiger. So be good and stop talking. You know it ruins my mood.”

“C'mon, the Daddy thing again? You know I just find that fuckin' weird.” Jim only pursed his lips in a smirk and raised his eyebrows, staring pointedly at the Seb's still fully-clothed body. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. 'm going...”

He was down to just his pants, tight grey shorts that outlined his impressive bulge, fingers hooked in the black waistband ready to tug them off and leave them with the rest of his clothes on the floor, when Jim spoke up. “That's enough. Leave those on.” A pale hand patted the bed beside him as the Irishman cocked his head, his smile growing all the more dirty. 

The thick duvet felt nice under Seb's weary body as he settled down, but he forced his eyes to stay open. Fuck only knew what would happen if he fell asleep with a horny James Moriarty in the room... 

Jim reached a hand out and began to palm at the sniper's groin, petting his cock into full hardness, those damned thin fingers clever and skilled as they worked over the fabric. He continued rubbing at Seb as he spoke.

“We're going to try something a bit new, Tiger. I want to watch you get off--” Sebastian scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tucked an arm behind his head, trying hard not to cant his hips up into Jim's touch. 

“You've watched me get myself off dozens of times, you prick.” 

Jim glared at him, the corner of his mouth twitching down in annoyance. “If you'd be so kind, Sebby, as to let me finish...” 

The man in question simply heaved a sigh and waved a hand in; Jim's eyes narrowed. 

“Now. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted-- and you can be sure I'll remember to punish you for that later-- I want to watch you get off....” Jim paused, the dramatic little diva, as that Devil grin spread across his pointed face again. “Without touching yourself.” With that, Jim pulled his hand back and scooted, settling himself at the foot of the bed.

“What are you gettin' on about? Without touchin' myself?” Jim nodded.

“And you're not gonna be touchin' me either, I take it?” Jim shook his head, obsidian eyes glinting in the lamplight. “Well then how the fuck do you expect me to wank off without touchin' myself?”

Jim replied as he undid his belt and zipper, brushing his fingers across his groin once, “Come now, Tiger. I'm sure you could think of a way. Just make it.... dance.”

Sebastian Moran was not one for blushing, but as he realized exactly what Jim wanted him to do, a faint rose coloured tinge spread across his rough cheeks. “You really want me to... Is that even possible... Fine. Fine. But I'm going to sleep afterward, you hear?”

He took in a bit of a shuddering breath as he tried to ignore Jim's hungry stare, focusing all his efforts into... His cock twitched upwards once, bobbing against the confining fabric of his underwear. He had to bite down on his lip to hold back a surprised gasp: that small, forced movement had sent tendrils of shocking pleasure through his body, far stronger than he had thought it would be, and when he repeated the motion again, a low moan escaped his lips.

At the foot of the bed, Jim had taken his own cock out and was stroking it lazily, dark eyes honed in on his employee.

“Faster, Tiger. Work yourself for me. And don't hold back those beautiful noises of yours.”

Sebastian groaned loudly at the sound of his boss's voice, velvet rubbed the wrong way, and obeyed. He began twitching his cock at a faster pace as his hips rolled up to complement the motion, his free hand lying by his side gripping the sheets convulsively. 

It wasn't like fucking, or getting a handy, or even just rutting up against Jim's fully-clothed leg when the superior felt especially cruel; there was just nothing to create pressure, friction. But as Seb continued to move his cock and thrust his hips into the empty air, the motion rolling all the way up through his lower back, the sniper found that it didn't matter. It was enough stimulation. 

It didn't hurt, either, that Jim had begun fisting himself in earnest down by Seb's feet, the slick sounds mixing with the criminal's low drawl of obscene words and promises meant only for Sebastian, the Irishman's efforts spurring the Tiger on.

The flat, muscled plane of the sniper's torso rippled with exertion, and low throaty moans poured easily out of the ex-soldier. The tight, familiar heat was beginning to coil in his lower stomach, the warmth reaching all the way down to his curling toes and all the way up to pleasure-twisted face.

“Oh, oh fuck, Jim, holy fucking hell, I'm going to--” The words cut of into a higher sound, more whine than anything else, as Seb's hand curled into the blanket and his hips rolled, prick lurching up and god his pants were so tight and Jim was shaking the bed as he thrust up into his own fist and Jesus Seb was tired and this felt so good and--

Sebastian's whole body stilled for a moment, suspended in space, before he convulsed in on himself, lower back pressing down into the mattress while his shoulders and head lifted clean off the bed. He gave a final, almost pained, groan as his cock jerked on its own accord, shooting his hot release into his pants. 

He came down off his high, body convulsing with aftershock ripples, panting like a sated whore, as Jim gave his own strangled sound and came.

Both men remained quiet for a moment, the room smelling of sweat and sex, and as Sebastian lay there trying to catch his breath, Jim crawled up the bed to him, not bothering to tuck himself away.

“You did such a good job, Tiger. Show Daddy. Show Daddy what a good job you did.”

Sebastian rolled a bit towards his left hip, lifting his right side up off the bed as Jim looked on. He slipped his thumbs into the waistband and gingerly lifted them over his sensitive cock and pulled them half-way down. There, on his hip bone, lay a glob of pearly white come. Jim hummed appreciatively, black eyes half-lidded, and leaned his head down, lapping at Sebastian until the sticky release had been licked up. Seb groaned, head falling back onto the pillow, eyes slipping closed. 

Jim switched off the light before stretching out beside Sebastian, a hand curling possessively around his employee's spent cock. His grin was lost to the darkness, but his voice, pleased and low, reached the sniper before sleep did. 

“Such a good boy, Sebastian. Now get some rest. I think I'm going to want a repeat performance...”


End file.
